


Utopia

by Traxits



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Community: fic_promptly, Gen, Oneshot, Original Game Canon Compliant, Wordcount: 100-1.000, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they first started on the Plate, the flyers had been everywhere. Perfect, they'd called it. The perfect city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utopia

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Final Fantasy VII, any, Midgar was supposed to be utopia

When they first started on the Plate, the flyers had been everywhere. Perfect, they'd called it. The perfect city.

Midgar was, Elmyra had decided after the first looming tower had gone up, anything but perfect. Still, people flocked to the city, and building it meant there were more jobs and construction workers, and even her husband had enthusiastically supported it all. She'd watched her community shrink, then swell to bursting-- at one point, they had rented out their living room floor for sleeping-- and then, when the war broke out and the Plate was almost finished, everything seem to hit a standstill.

Sometimes, she stood outside and simply stared up at it, at the Plate that blocked her sky, at the lights that clicked on and shut off at regular intervals. There was no more adjusting for the setting sun, no more shifting of the business hours. Everything was timed. Mechanical.

The wall around the outer edge of the sector was another movement toward 'perfection'. For their safety, the megaphones had announced, and Elmyra had closed her eyes and ducked her head and tried to plant another flower in dirt that had turned gray and powdery instead of the rich black it had been only a few years ago. Shinra had taken that too, she supposed, though she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how.

Utopia. Perfection.

No living city could manage such things, and Elmyra watched the harried, strained young man they had on camera as he addressed the city. He had a foreign name, and she knew she should know it, but for the life of her, she never could remember it. Still, he had a kind smile, though some part of her pitied him for having to address their city, ignore the sickness running through her, ignore the way thousands lived...

Well. As she did.


End file.
